DC was not my riot. We joined Antifa after a close friend and I were chased down by what appeared to be soldiers who were shooting at us. Portland was a war zone. I cannot say that they were soldiers, they had the drag, and guns. We didn’t stay long enough to discuss fashion. We could hear the shots behind us. The bike was hidden. Once we reached it, Sayonara. I am sure there was video due to the surveillance cameras. I would seriously question the validity of any video taken with any of those surveillance snitches. We wear masks under our motorcycle helmets with dark face shields. We took the plates off. We wore leather gloves. In all the confusion, you could not tell who was who. We are getting pretty good at how to throw hot tear gas canisters back at the cops. It takes two to tango, and the Capitol rioters know it. If we had attended the DC madness as participants. Blood running in the streets. We were covert. But don’t think we were not there. With cameras. I never made it to the inside of the building. I never tried. The outside was trip enough. We usually keep our heads down and lay low. Same masks. Same helmets. Same bike. But the riots were different. No one in DC was shooting guns at civilians running down the street to get away. A jacket with the word MEDIA on it. You can make these yourself with glow in the dark duct tape. Less than three bucks. You can rip it off when you get the chance, Weighed down with all that death accoutrement, the soldiers were not fast. You couldn’t pay me enough to buy my bike. Fascism’s soldiers will kill you. Not my riot. Not my children. Not my president. Not my government. These vicious people have fucked around with treason because they are not accountable. Let us count the ways. Kids in cages as public policy cannot be disputed. It was a crime whose focus was aimed at a specific group. They are called children. Even though many news cycles have passed through the labyrinthine twists of time, they’re still children. Still there. Still hoping against hope to reunite with families. They will never be returned to families. They remain incarcerated. They remain voiceless. They remain the detritus of Donald Trump. We can’t even locate their families. They remain the detained. The dead. Emotionally drained, and a stain upon our legacy as a society, a culture, a species, a tribe of haters manipulated by an army of wildfire fascists. The history of Homo sapiens. The Republican party and the Nazi party share the history of the WarLord party. A dark symbolism. This history of abuse cannot be undone. History does not have to wait to judge us. It can and will judge us now. The media has some blame to shoulder, too. These are the same international corporations who were entranced by the warlord and his psychopathic hysterics. They can only cover one story at a time. One click at a time. Who is covering what has happened to children who were turned into victims and incarcerated in institutions where a pandemic ravages kids cell-to-cell. How many are dead. How many will be dead. How many parents are dead. Who are these children. No accountability. As adults, they will fail. How does that work out for you. This will be expensive. Governments do not raise children. Families do. DC was not my riot. There will be more because America is a violent, virulent, vicious landscape worthy of generosity, a public policy based on experience and wisdom, and capable of disowning racial murder as a status quo.